“Well,” she said slowly, “we have a really great teacher.”
I relaxed momentarily. An instructor can make a difference, it’s true. I’ve had more than a few mentors in my career and they’ve been life-changing, helping me see things from a different perspective.
“And who is this teacher?” I asked smoothly, expecting a woman. I dunno, I guess I’m backwards or something. I always think of teaching as a women’s profession, many of my favorite teachers have been Misses this or that. But evidently it’s a modern world now and Daisy’s teacher was a guy.
“Mr. Ranger’s my English teacher,” said Daisy softly. “Mr. Ranger’s new to the district, he’s a vet, did some time in the military before taking up teaching. But it’s fine because we’re reading Victorian literature and he knows his stuff.”
I sat back. What the hell? An ex-military dude was teaching my little girl about Jane Eyre and all that shit? Who the fuck was this asshole? But I didn’t let it get away from me, keeping my face impassive.
“Mr. Ranger?” I inquired. Even his name was a fucking joke, like a GI Joe. “Tell me more.”
“He’s really great,” said the brunette quickly. “We’re talking about Pride and Prejudice in class and he’s so knowledgeable. He reminds me of Mr. Darcy, a character in the book, except not stuck up at all.”
And I searched my memory banks. Wasn’t Mr. Darcy the hero of the book, the tall, dark and handsome guy? Why the fuck was Daisy was comparing her high school teacher to Mr. Stud? I could feel my hackles raising, bristling even, the threat of another alpha male making me growl subtly. But it’d do no good to give it away so soon, so I schooled my face into impassiveness.
“I see,” I said casually. “This guy seems pretty well-educated. He something special to you?”
And Daisy blushed again, her rack rising and falling with excitement.
“Oh no,” she rushed, waving her hand, “Mr. Ranger’s just a teacher at school. But…” she said tentatively.
“But what?” I asked.
“But he’s coming over next week and said he’d like to meet you, maybe talk about a donation for Central Prep,” she rushed out, looking at me with embarrassed eyes. “Would you mind meeting him, maybe just for five minutes to chat a little?” she asked in a small voice.
I almost laughed internally. Because sure, I’d love to meet this dude. I’d love to beat the daylights out of him if he was indeed a hot stud, scare the bejesus out of him. But I played it like I’d need a favor in return.
“This is kind of out of the blue,” I said, looking off in the distance while chewing my steak. “I’m not sure if I have time in my schedule. Which day was it? I dunno, I’m traveling to Italy and Venezuela next week, it’ll be tough,” I said, lowering my brows like I was visualizing my packed schedule.
Daisy was silent for a moment.
“Please Mr. Marks,” she said. “Just for a little bit.”
I turned to look at her, that caramel gaze filled with sincerity, lips pouting, expression hopeful. But I didn’t become CEO without honing my negotiation tactics.
“What’s in it for me?” I asked nonchalantly. “People are always looking to get a slice of my money, what do I get for meeting with this asshole?”
Daisy bit her lip.
“Well, maybe he’d give me a better grade in class?” she said in a small voice.
I snorted.
“He better give you a better grade,” I ground out. “That’s the least he could do for five minutes of my time. No, little girl,” I said gently. “Tell me … what will you be giving me?”
And here, Daisy bit her lip.
“I’m not sure what you mean,” she said tentatively, the heat rising in her cheeks again, squirming a bit in her chair. We were alone in the big dining room but she looked around as if searching for some help, an out somewhere.
“I’m sure you know what I mean,” I growled, leaning back in my chair, a relaxed male animal, dangerously predatory. “You haven’t been wearing panties Daisy, you’ve been flashing that cunt all over the house, trying to tempt me.”
Daisy let out a sharp gasp then, eyes wide with shock.
“Mr. Marks, it’s not like that,” she breathed. “I swear.”
“Not like what?” I drawled, big body relaxed although energy jolted in waves through my frame.
“It’s just that,” she said slowly. “My body’s changed and I didn’t have underwear that fit anymore,” she said. “My hips are a little wider now and my old panties, I bought them when I was built like a rail,” she said shyly, almost embarrassed. “I used to be a size zero but now I’m a twelve and the last time I tried to get my old stuff on, they …”
Her voice trailed off.
“They what?” I pressed gently.
The brunette looked down, embarrassed, completely still.
“They ripped,” she almost whispered. “My panties didn’t fit anymore, they tore right in two.”
My cock jumped out at full mast then. Oh fuck, oh fuck. The little girl was a curvy one, hips wide and sassy, with a rack to make a man cry. The thought of that sweet, soft cotton squeezing her waist, the fabric straining and finally snapping made my cock jerk to attention, and suddenly I couldn’t resist anymore.
“Show me,” I commanded harshly, eyes glued to her figure. The air between us was electric and tense with sexual energy. Clearly, the steak was forgotten.
“Show you?” she repeated in a small voice, shaking her head, confused. “I can’t Mr. Marks, I threw those panties away. I threw all my panties away,” she confessed. “None of them fit anymore.”
The thought made me spurt a bit into my pants. Holy shit, this was dangerous territory, but I had to keep going. I had to.
“Not that baby, I’ll get you new panties,” I rasped, eyes hot, dick on fire. “Show me that beautiful pussy. It’s bare and wet isn’t it?”
And with wide eyes, Daisy nodded, squirming slightly in her seat again.
“It is,” she murmured. “When I’m around you it is, Mr. Marks.”
And I fucking couldn’t take it anymore.
“Up,” I commanded. “Bend over, skirt up.”
Trembling, the brunette stood, sliding her chair back.
“Right here? In the dining room?” she whispered, chin trembling.
“Right here,” I growled, eyes glued to her voluptuous curves.
And slowly, the girl turned and bent over, the hem of her skirt rising inch by inch, meaty thighs coming into view, pale, creamy and oh-so-tasty, like ham hocks you could bite into, get a huge mouthful and enjoy.
“Like this Mr. Marks?” she asked breathlessly, small voice coming from between her knees.
“Just a little more,” I ground out, and the girl obliged. Slowly, she tipped over even further until the bottom of her pink pussy slipped into view, nubile, pulsing, and wet.
I practically came right then, cockpole throbbing, veins pulsing, the tip leaking with lust.
“Fuck little girl,” I stared at her bottom, my eyes ravenous. “Fuck,” I ground out harshly. And the girlie got into it then.
“How about this?” she asked, shaking her hips, shimmying a bit. I watched mesmerized as little flecks of pussy juice dribbled from her folds, one even hitting my dick. Ravenously, I massaged the spatter of cream into my pole, using it as lube.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” I ground out. “But I want more,” and with a quick movement of my wrist, I flicked her skirt over her hips so that her entire snatch was bared, that juicy twat fleshy, steaming, beating with a visible pulse as I stared at those plush lips, the little clit poking out.
“Oh Tristan,” Daisy squealed from down below. “You’re so bad!”
But I didn’t answer because I was mesmerized, already beating my stick like a madman. Fuck, I raged, she’s your ward, stop stop stop, this is so wrong. But it felt right. Everything about this fucked-up situation felt right, from the way that pink pussy leaked to the way Daisy was breathing hard, shivering
with delight.
And never a man to hold back, I let go. With a grunt, I began pulling on my dick, pumping like there was no tomorrow, my hand a vise around the huge shaft. Oh shit, it felt so good and Daisy was so fucking gorgeous. Her pussy was bare right in front of me, quivering and trembling with need.
“Ohhhh Tristan,” she moaned, and that was all it took. With a groan, a shake, and a massive roar, I spurted, cock shooting like a hose, rope after rope of creamy jizz hitting the teen’s thighs before dripping down her long, luscious legs and spattering all over the ground.
“Ooohh,” moaned Daisy again. “Higher higher,” she pleaded.
And pointing my dickhead up, I let a couple streams of jizz splash against her pussy, seeping into her hole, pulsing against her clit. It was so fucking wrong to watch my ward’s cunt get bathed in my seed, but I came even harder, my rocks practically exploding and semen flying out like a geyser gone crazy. Oh shit, oh shit, was I really doing this? Was I splashing my little ward’s pussy with hot jism? Oh shit, I was a disgusting motherfucker, and this had to stop.
But of course I didn’t stop. The orgasm rolled through me, hips jerking, chest heaving as I grunted with pleasure, juices erupting from my dicktip with a vengeance. Fuck, there was just so much, gallons and gallons of white, creamy batter sprayed all over Daisy’s pussy.
But nothing this good lasts forever, and with a few more pulses and some hot splashes, finally the crescendo ended. I grunted again, dicktip merely dripping now instead of flying with hot fuck. But I hadn’t counted on the girl, because Daisy herself was my undoing.
“Mr. Marks,” she murmured, small voice coming from between her knees still. “More?” she cooed coyly, pulling her ass cheeks apart, showing me that gleaming pussy, how it trembled and shook, gooey under a coat of my cum.
I was done for. The vixen had me wrapped around her finger, my achy balls resting in her palms. I was absolutely done for, except that Daisy is my ward … and it shouldn’t have happened.
Falling for My Beautiful Ward is LIVE! Get your copy here.
A Sneak Peek: Their Secret
~An MMF Bisexual Secret Baby Romance~
© 2018
By Cassandra Dee and Katie Ford
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ABOUT THIS BOOK
Their Secret: An MMF Bisexual Secret Baby Romance
Rule One: Don’t date your therapist.
Rule Two: Don’t date the man of the house.
Rule Three: Definitely don’t date both at once.
Easy right?
Guess again.
I’ve always had a strange relationship with my stepdad Gray.
We don’t get each other.
Well, I get him.
I see that body, hard and muscular.
And my mom’s long gone, so why not?
But Gray’s moral. A good guy. He wants me, but he doesn’t.
So we go to therapy together.
Except the therapist is gorgeous.
Mason Channing, PhD, helps couples resolve their issues.
But Dr. Channing’s not interested in fixing things because he’s interested in something else.
My curves.
My wetness.
Making me pant … as Gray watches.
This is wrong.
So bad.
Totally taboo.
But it’s the best therapy I’ve ever had …
Chapter 1
Mona
A loud sound startles me awake as I toss around on my fluffy bed. Sitting up, surrounded by a mountain of pillows, I listen intently until the sound reveals itself to be Gray’s shoes moving through the foyer. He’s home, are my thoughts as I roll over and bury my face in the pillows. Seems like that’s starting to happen more and more often nowadays.
Ever since my mom jetted right after their wedding, Gray has been working like a maniac and coming back really late. I don’t blame him. Kathy leaving so soon was a shock, and the way she did it was crazy too. No note. No nothing. Just one day … gone.
And at first, I wanted to talk with my new stepdad about what happened. But what is there to say? Kathy is the most irresponsible person on the planet. She’s never taken anything seriously – and unfortunately, her marriage was no exception.
So Gray and I have barely spoken since the disastrous wedding. And now that there’s only three months left to graduation, I’m not sure what’s going to happen next. I have no place to go. No job. No options. Really, Grayson Thorn is the only person I could lean on, even if our relationship isn’t close.
But it’s hard to blame Mom for this situation because her life hasn’t exactly been moonlight and rainbows. Kathy was around my age when boom! Pregnancy struck. Needless to say, my dad wasn’t in the picture. So the poor thing was all on her own, forced to grow up real fast suddenly.
And I guess that kind of explains it. I stole my mom’s teen years, and the minute it was possible, Kathy sought to reclaim her youth. The woman became a social butterfly to the max, dating like a whirlwind. At first, there were a string of lovers, a new guy every couple weeks. Let me tell you, the moans that came from her room were insane, especially to a shy virgin like myself.
But things get old fast, and when Kathy met Gray, it seemed like a dream come true. First, he was ten times better than anyone else she dated. Tall, handsome, and a billionaire to boot. What someone like that saw in Kathy was beyond me, but I wasn’t going to complain.
Second, Mr. Thorn gave her everything. Clothes, jewelry, and lavish vacations were all part of the picture. Of course, Kathy wasn’t above using him for his money.
“Mona, I just hope you’ll be happy for me,” Mom purred, standing in front of her mirror, admiring that figure in a designer gown. Kathy has always been beautiful, and I had to admit that she looked stunning in the exquisite lace creation, the fabric molded just so to her voluptuous form. “Someday, I’m sure you’ll find a man who will buy you stuff like this,” she cooed, batting her eyelashes in the mirror.
I’d doubted that. Even at sixteen, reality was already starkly clear. I’ve always been an ugly duckling: chubby, brunette, and far too shy to hold the interest of a real man. I’m nothing like my mother…and I have a feeling it’s always bothered her that we’re so different.
Because whereas I’m frugal and serious, Kathy is fun and exciting, the girl invited to every party. And Gray’s money just enabled her. Sure enough, within two months of meeting her new beau, Mom developed an obsession with plastic surgery. At first, it was just small things. A nip here, a tuck there, nothing too obvious. But things escalated real fast. Her nose job was botched, calling for revision surgery. And then the revision surgery went off the rails, and a specialist had to be brought in to re-sculpt her entire face.
Did any of this get her down? No. Kathy was airy about the whole thing, proclaiming that she’d come out as beautiful as Angelina Jolie. And the thing is that my mom really is gorgeous, even if her face seems a little frozen. So long as you squint, the woman does look like a twenty five year-old bouncy blonde, albeit with uber-sculpted cheekbones that could never exist in real life.
But Kathy is Kathy, and she doesn’t know a good thing even if it smacks her in the face. Because a week after the wedding, the crazy woman disappeared. Can you believe it? Not many ladies get a shot at permanence with someone like Grayson Thorn. After all, the man is power and charisma come to life. Tall, dark, dominating, plus the CEO of a Fortune 500 company. Why would she run off on someone like that?
Unfortunately, there are no easy answers. I’ve been wondering myself for two years, and still, nothing makes sense. But that’s the way the cookie crumbles, and it’s better to move on and make the best out of my life. Maybe I don’t belong at Waverly Mansion, but at least no one’s kicked me out yet.
Because it took a while to warm up. With my mo
m gone, I wasn’t sure of my place anymore. What would Gray say? Would he ask me to leave? Where would I go? But after a couple weeks of not seeing him, I gave up. The man had to be devastated with his new wife leaving him in the dirt so soon after their nuptials. So I carried on as usual, tiptoeing from room to room, obediently going to school like a good girl.
And maybe six months after the wedding, my stepdad finally reappeared. One night I came down at 3 a.m. to drink some milk. Shockingly, Gray was in the kitchen, tall and ominous in a perfectly cut black suit.
“Um hi,” I stammered, flushing like crazy. My nightie was nothing more than an oversized t-shirt, almost see through with age. It was embarrassing, the short hem indecent.
But I hadn’t expected to see anyone at this time, so the vision of this massive male looming before the refrigerator took me by surprise. Where had he been? What was he going to say? Should I start packing my bags?
But Gray remained mum. Instead, he shot me an ominous look from under lowered brows before spinning on his heel and disappearing up the stairs. My lungs immediately filled with air, like I’d unwittingly been holding my breath. Oh god. Gray was here. He was back. Mentally, I prepared myself for the worst.
But that’s the thing. I didn’t see him again for another six months. Waverly Mansion was empty except for me and the help, and when I did see my stepdad, it was fleeting. Just a glimpse here or there, or the sound of footsteps late at night. The CEO was probably working himself to the bone to take his mind off his marital disaster.
And now, after two years, I finally feel kind of normal at Waverly. Gray is nothing but a ghost most of the time. So I’ve slowly adapted to my new existence, although the lavish lifestyle is definitely over the top. After all, who really needs a butler, a housekeeper, a slew of maids, a chef, a sous-chef, and god knows how many gardeners? I’m here on my own mostly, just one person. The marble sinks, crystal chandeliers, and golden fixtures are wonderful, but totally unnecessary. As a girl with working class roots, any small, humble place to call my own would be fine.
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